The "One Thing A Day" Challenge

Olivia Lopez is bound by crippling anxiety and a nasty inferiority complex and one day vows never to leave her house for anything. Ever again. Until she's given the One Thing a Day Challenge.

It's not long before I have to catch the bus and take a dreaded ride into the city. I don't realise until now I'm holding a bunch of notes about my potential future company's history and have scrunched them into a tight wad of paper.

I straighten them out and pick up my stress ball and begin pacing up and back through my lounge room. My hand is going fifty miles an hour pumping the ball, I'm almost scurrying across the carpet and stop to inspect it in case I've worn it down to billy-o.

Olivia, stop. Stop it.

I stop pacing, I place the stress ball on my coffee table, take a few deep breaths and think back to my AA meetings. No, not Alcoholics Anonymous. I don't drink alcohol and I never will. It kills brain cells, makes you feel like death the next morning, it damages your organs, and I read the other day that when alcohol breaks down it turns into some chemical compound causing multiple forms of cancer. No, sir. I have enough trouble keeping myself together without worrying about that sort of thing. If I wanted to put myself through that then I may as well put a gun to my head this very minute.

I'd like to protest the name of our AA meetings. I couldn't dare tell anyone about them because then they'd assume I'm a trashy alcoholic with brain, nerve and cell damage with a one-way ticket to rehab. It's a horrid connection. These meetings are a lot more serious. Anxiety Anonymous. Whenever I think about it I can see our group leader Zephyr smiling his big toothy smile and speaking to us in his soothing hippy way. I don't think his name is really Zephyr. If you remove his dreadlock extensions, take away the Elton John shades and his pleated vest he'd be more of a Stephen. Or a Sean.

Everyone in our group looks high when he goes through his relaxation techniques. I know because I take a peek when we're supposed to be imagining ourselves near a waterfall of serenity and it's like they've been transported to HippyVille. I nearly expect Zephyr to pull out his guitar and start singing Kumbaya. I've thought about leaving the meetings on numerous occasions. I don't even think they're legit. I discretely picked up a flyer for it when I saw Zephyr in the mall trying to promote the thing and thought I'd go along to see what his deal was. I was desperate. I'd suffered a panic attack earlier that day so I obviously wasn't thinking straight. I've only been to three of the meetings and even then it took me a month to get up the courage to go. The good thing is I can hide there. I can pretend to suffer a breakdown if the attention is turned to me and since we're all in the same boat I'm always excused. I honestly don't know why I even bother. Maybe I'm going insane.

I suddenly get a glimpse of the time and my heart skips into sixth gear.

Shoot!

I grab my bag, my keys, my crinkled notes and fly out the door almost forgetting to lock it behind me.

When I get to the footpath I don't run to the bus because there's heaps of people out and I'd rather not have them stare at me. I walk quickly, but not so quick that I'm in danger of tripping or rolling my ankle.

I'm wearing heels which is a change for me because I can't normally walk in heels. I must look a real sight, almost as if I should have a big fat "L" strapped to my shoes. Learner or loser.

I keep hobbling down the path when the bus zooms up behind me and I know I have to run to the bus stop but I can't because the bus is full of intimidating people and they're all going to stare as it goes by.

Luck is on my side though when there's a crowd of people waiting at the bus stop. I keep to my relaxed pace knowing I have time to get there while everyone else gets on. I see an old lady struggling to step into the bus and she still hasn't made her way down the aisle when I reach them.

Good. I can get in between these people and conceal myself as I find a seat.

I fumble for my ticket and slot it into the machine. Three beeps later and it's rejected.

No.

I slot it in again and the same thing happens. I hear a man behind me sigh as I desperately try again.

I pray to the ticketing gods but it's rejected again.

I feel a flush creeping up through my neck as I turn to hand it to the driver.

I try to squeeze past Mr Impatient and he grunts in annoyance.

'What have you got there, darl?'

Oh well, at least the driver's nice. He takes it and shrugs, saying it should be fine. He marks it off and tells me to take a seat.

As I look up at the rows of blank faces I see the only free spot is next to Mr Impatient. I could stay standing but as the bus jerks off and I'm nearly sent flying down the other end of the aisle I know that's not an option.

Mr Impatient huffs as he moves his large build closer to the window so I can sit down.

'Thanks,' I mumble and try to flatten out my notes.

There's so much chatter going on that I can hardly hear myself think. The old lady in front of me thinks that because she's half-deaf that the woman next to her is too so she feels the need to shout every single word.

'The bus is very full today! A bit of a rough ride, isn't it, lovey? Very rough ride today. What are you doing today? I'm off to the dentist to get my dentures checked. I dropped them in the sink the other day�"'

I try to block her out just like the woman next to her. I'd rather stuff lettuce in my ears than hear about her dentures.

All right. So. Ace Loxton Suppliers. Zephyr put me onto this job as an Office Assistant at some stationery organisation. He listed all the key points about the company and filled me in on what I need to know. I've been unemployed ever since I finished uni two months ago. And I did an Arts degree which is pretty much the road to nowhere.

I'm scared out of my wits about getting a job. Not just because it means I have to go out and do something with my life but because I don't know the half of working.

'Do you mind? I have to get through.' Mr Impatient is on his feet and trying to push past my legs.

'Oh, sorry.' I slide out so he can get through and then quickly ease back into the chair like I never had to move at all.

Phew, what a relief he's gone. He smelt like dead animals.

Ace Loxton Suppliers.

This is a bad idea. A really bad idea. I could just not turn up. Would they ring me or just cross me off their list, grateful that their decision is one step easier? It's a waste of time anyway. I'm not going to get this job. Some blond bimbo with legs up to her neck and a seductive, confident appeal is going to get the job and I'll be left in her dust, beaten up and rejected for the zillionth time this month. It's not worth. It's so not worth the trouble.

I press the button for the next stop. I'm going home. I've made up my mind and I'm going home. It's amazing how relaxed I feel now that I'm not going ahead with this stupid idea. My heart rate's back to normal, my pores have thankfully closed up, and I'm feeling happy. So happy that I get to go back home.

Hah, I rule at making decisions.

My phone soon starts ringing and I see my best friend's name appear on the screen.

'Hey Nat.'

'Liv! Sorry to call you, I know you're on your way to the interview. I just wanted to wish you luck!'

My blood starts throbbing in my ears. She knew. She knew.

'Oh... yeah... thanks.'

'Are you okay?'

I try to relax but I'm feeling all wound up again. I'm going to be sick. I'm actually going to be sick. I can make up an excuse, any excuse. She doesn't need to know my plan to skip the interview.

'Just remember to breathe. And be yourself. I know that's lame and corny and blah, blah but you'll be fine. You'll pull it off.'

'Um...'

The bus pulls to a halt and I'm struggling with my notes and my bag and trying to keep the phone to my ear and when the driver sees that no one is getting off he jerks back onto the road.

No. Oh no.

Thanks, Nat. Thanks. I'm so annoyed at her right now for calling me. I had a plan and she's gone and ruined it.

'Nat, I can't talk right now,' I growl, keeping my voice down so nobody finds pleasure in listening to my conversation.

'Sorry! I'll let you go. Just chill out, you'll make an awesome impression. I have faith in you. Just be like�"'

'I have to go. I'll talk to you later.' I need to stop this conversation. I can't stand it when she gives me fifty compliments in a day, particularly when they're not even true. There's no way she can have faith in me when I don't even have it in myself. That's ridiculous.

'Okay, break a leg! Hug you!'

I shove my phone back in my bag. The next stop is right outside the office where this stinking job interview is going to be so even if I wanted to turn around and go home it would be stupid. Now that I'm here I may as well get it over with. It might save awkward phone calls and excuses from Nat and Zephyr and the hiring manager. And that's something I really don't want to deal with.

I get off the bus and stand outside the office building for a moment. My legs are like jelly so I sit on a bench a few feet away. My leg keeps bouncing up and down like it's on steroids and I have to keep wiping my sweaty palms on my skirt. This is a nightmare. It's Nat's fault for ringing. I could be on my way home right now if it wasn't for her.

Natalia Ericsson. We met at uni. Normally I don't make friends all that easily but one day in the refectory Nat plonked herself down while I was pretending to be deep in a piece of classical literature and eating my sandwiches like I was studious and needed to be alone to study.

'Let me guess. Literature major, first year?'

I'd looked up into the face of this gorgeous, dark-haired, bright-eyed, slim, tall girl and felt myself instantly blush. She was like one of those full on intimidating girls you hoped would pay attention to you at school, but always tried to avoid. I was friends with the outsiders, the losers, the nerds. We were all pinned into specific groups back then and I never knew what it was like to have close friends. Some of the popular girls used to try and talk to me, mainly because I have actually been blessed with some of those "desirable features". Then when I couldn't talk to them they thought I was a snob and labelled me so even though I shook in my boots every time I saw them.

I remember wishing when Nat sat down that she was a shy, plump, nervous little mouse because I knew then we'd probably hit it off. But she wasn't. She was a supermodel. 

'Um, yeah.' I'd said, almost wishing that if I kept conversation to a minimum that she'd leave.

She'd smiled at me with perfect teeth. 'I'm Natalia. But Nat's fine.'

I shook her perfect hand. 'Olivia.'

That was when I realised uni was a whole other world. People were mature there and they didn't pinhole you. Nat talked heaps. Actually, she chatted my ear off but I loved it. She was so interesting and actually showed interest in me. It was like a match made in heaven: She was a chatter and I was a listener. That's why we clicked, I guess. It wasn't long either before we became best friends with late-night study sessions, chocolate and coffee dates before class, and she became the one person I felt most comfortable with. We were both doing Literature until she took the smart road and transferred to Education. She gave herself opportunities. And I'm left with a useless degree and a job interview I'm going to screw up.

After finally plucking up the courage to walk into the building, the receptionist points me in the direction of the waiting room, very confidently, with a grace in her manner. Something I would never have.

While I sit there in fear I look around at the posters on the walls to try and occupy my mind.

Ace Loxton Suppliers: We receive, we manage, we care.

Yuck. They could come up with a better slogan than that. I don't remember seeing it on Zephyr's notes. I pull them out and find the name he's scrawled down.

Ace Loxton Suppliers: Stationery Suppliers since 1947.

Hm, it must've been an old poster or something.

I spot another one with several happy people laughing together and clasping hands in tight handshakes.

We can find the right person for you.

Huh?

I continue to look around at the walls.

Ace Loxton is Number One at suiting person to business.

Remember the name: You might need Us.

None of these posters say a thing about stationery! I must be in the wrong place. But Ace Loxton Suppliers... that's what Zephyr gave me. Suppliers of stationery, not people. Where am I? This can't be right! I need to get out of here.

'Olivia Lopez?'

I nearly jump ten feet in the air when a woman calls me across the room. She has a very stern look on her face, her body is wrapped up in a prestigious looking suit, and her hair is immaculately swept back into a bun.

'Er, I think I'm in the wrong place.' I try to make a dash through the door but she stops me.

'Olivia Lopez? You're on my list. Come on through.'

I stand there for a moment like a dope. Panic is engulfing my body and I'm afraid I won't be able to walk towards her without collapsing.

I try to compose myself. I'm a professional, attractive businesswoman.

When my feet finally decide to move I walk to her office like a monkey on drugs.

 

*       *       *

 

  I pick at my skirt obsessively while this professional woman flicks through my résumé. Charlotte Conrad. Her brow is crinkled as if she's deep in thought and she clicks her tongue a few times before turning her attention to me.

'Miss Lopez. I see you haven't had much work experience before. Is there a reason for this?'

I clear my throat but it's still croaky like I've smoked a dozen packets of cigarettes beforehand. Gosh, I hope she doesn't think I'm a smoker.

'I wanted to focus on my studies. You know, uni and school. My parents didn't mind supporting me.'

'Are you still living with your parents?'

'No. I moved to the city for uni. I live by myself.'

She nods rigidly. 'What inspired you to apply for this job?'

What did inspire me? Zephyr practically thrust the application in my face. I didn't really have much say in it. I wouldn't have done it otherwise.

'Um. Well, I'm looking for a job...'

Charlotte raises her eyebrows at me like I'm the dumbest person she's ever interviewed. I don't blame her.

'But this one. What drew you to it?'

'I... um...'

Say something witty and clever so we can both have a laugh over it! Say something!

'I like what your company offers,' I spit out even though I'm pretty sure I have no idea what their company is actually about.

'What do you specifically like about us?'

My eyes dart around the room searching for a clue. It's like this woman is working in a prison cell. Everything is bare and cold looking; very uninviting.

I remember one of the posters in the other room. 'I like how you suit people to businesses.'

Charlotte stifles a chuckle and nods. This is either the worst or most entertaining interview she's ever had.

'How would you leave your mark on our company?'

Oh man, this question catches me off guard.

I pretend not to have heard. 'Sorry?'

'How would you leave your mark on our company?' Charlotte says robotically like she's programmed to ask these exact questions.

'Um...' My face flushes over and I'm sweating like a pig. I don't even want to know what I look like from the outside. I specifically wore a black top so sweat patches wouldn't be noticeable, but I can feel droplets prickling my forehead. I want to wipe my hand over it but I don't want to draw attention to the fact that I'm about to slip into a coma.

'Well...' I try to slow my breathing with some of Zephyr's techniques but it's no good.

This is a horrible company, Charlotte is a horrible interviewer, this is a horrible job that I don't even want and all in all this was a horrible idea. I'm tempted to get up and leave. It can't be any ruder than having this high-and-mighty woman laugh at my inability to answer her stupid questions.

This is all Zephyr's fault. If he'd given me the correct information I wouldn't have to go through this. When I get home I'm never going back to one of those meetings ever again. Heck, I'm never going to leave the house.

'Miss Lopez?'

I snap back to this torturous moment and notice sweat is now dripping down my forehead. It's really hot in here. Maybe if Charlotte had opened a window beforehand just to make the temperature a little more comfortable I wouldn't be sweating all over her furniture.

'Are you alright, Miss Lopez?'

I nod over-enthusiastically. 'Yes, fine. Fine. Um, I'm sorry, I'm not feeling too flash.'

I fan myself with Zephyr's notes, not even meaning to still be holding them. That must look very unprofessional.

This is pointless. Why should I suffer through this whole ordeal when I know I've already fluffed it?

'Alright, shall we move on then? Could you tell me some of your strengths?'

No! No! I don't have any strengths and even if I did I wouldn't be sending out memos about them. No, I've had enough.

'I'm sorry. I have to go.' I push my chair back a little too forcefully and it sends an ear-piercing screech throughout the room. Charlotte jumps a little and I apologise before stumbling in my heels towards the door and getting out of there before she can aim anymore of her stinking questions at me.

I almost run through the building to get outside as I think I'm about to have another panic attack, but once I get into the fresh air I lean against the wall and breathe. I must've been holding my breath during my escape as I'm feeling rather light-headed. I just need a minute to pull myself together. I don't want to hang around too long though. I don't want Charlotte Conrad coming to look for me.

That's enough, I think. That's enough stress for one day. Time to find a coffee shop.